The Wedding Game(60)

‘They kept my son like a pet. And when I saw him after that, he was riding through the village in the Duke’s carriage, dressed like a gentleman. Or side by side on horseback with that red-headed succubus of a duchess, talking French and laughing at her jokes.’ She gave a shudder of distaste. ‘No matter how hard he laughed, I could see he was not happy. But when he saw me...’ She flinched again. ‘He looked right through me.’

‘And he did not come home, even after the old Duke died?’ He must have known how he’d hurt her. How could he have left his mother to suffer?

She shook her head. ‘By then, it was too late. After what they gave him, he was too good to come home to me.’

‘I am sure it was not that,’ Amy said and paused, remembering the bleakness in his voice as he had told her his story. ‘I think he was ashamed.’

‘I would have forgiven him for what he had done,’ Mrs Lovell said, her lip trembling. ‘And I did not care what people might say, when they saw us together.’

‘What did they say to you?’

‘If they thought he was Cottsmoor’s son, then I must have been his whore.’

It was true. While society might forgive a man his natural birth, it was seldom so charitable to the women who bore the bastards. ‘Surely, after all this time, the scandal is old news,’ she said. Perhaps in this village. But when she told it in London, it would be a nine-days’ wonder.

‘It has been more than fifteen years.’ Mrs Lovell nodded. ‘Both the Duke and Duchess are gone to judgement and cannot hurt him, or anyone else, ever again.’

‘And their son,’ Amy agreed. Then she paused, adding the years in her head. ‘You say it has been fifteen years?’

‘Or more,’ Mrs Lovell replied. ‘Would you like to see a picture of my boy? The Duchess had a miniature painted of him shortly after he went to her.’ She made a face at the mention of the other woman, but smiled as she reached for the chain around her neck to unfasten it.

‘When she died, he mailed it to me.’ Now the woman who had raised him lifted her head in defiance. ‘He sent me money as well. More than I would ever need. I do not spend it. I do not want money. All I want is to see him once more and to hear from his own lips that he is well.’ She shook her head and released a watery sigh as she handed Amy the locket.

She opened it to see just what she had known would be there. At first glance, she would have assumed it was a painting of the young Duke of Cottsmoor. But a closer look proved the young man in the miniature was three or four years older than the Duke. The painter had managed to capture the distant look in the eyes of this boy that she saw in her own beloved Ben.

He had said there were secrets that he was bound by honour not to tell. This was surely what he meant. But was it a secret if the world knew but refused to believe? It did not matter who Cottsmoor’s true father might be. The acknowledged son of a duke was the Duke’s son, and therefore also a duke. But the embarrassment of rumour might be enough to separate Ben from his young friend for good.

If he lost a son because of her, he could regain a mother. ‘He is still just as handsome as this.’ Amy handed her the locket back. ‘Would you like to see him?’

The older woman stared hungrily down at the picture in her hand as if wishing would bring him live to her doorstep. ‘There would be no sweeter gift than to have my boy back,’ Mrs Lovell murmured. ‘Even if it is only for a little while.’

‘Suppose I could give you that?’ Amy said, feeling half-hopeful, half-guilty. ‘I will take you to him, this very day, if that is what you wish.’

‘Please,’ the woman said, squeezing the locket tight in her hand.

‘We will go as soon as you are ready. But you must do me one favour in return.’ Amy held her breath, hating what she was about to do.

‘Anything.’ Mrs Lovell leaned forward in her chair as if ready to leave with just the clothes on her back.

‘When we arrive in London, you must tell my father the story you have just told me. Immediately after, I will take you to Ben. And then he will take you home.’ He would have to, for it would be too humiliating to remain in London. Would the woman beside her still be so eager to go if she knew that their visit might be the first step in ruining her son’s life?





Chapter Twenty-Two

Now that there was nothing to do but wait for his plan to come to fruition, the hours seemed to drag so slowly that the clock might have been standing still. Although what he was waiting for, he was not sure.

It was unlikely that he would hear anything at all until he returned to London at the end of the week. It would take a day for Amy to reach Cottsmoor and another to return to London. Once there, she would learn that her father knew the truth and was not planning to use it. She would have to find another way.

She was sensible enough to take the story to the person who could do the most damage with it. A patroness at Almack’s would be an excellent choice. Soon, there would be one of those horrible stories in the papers about Mr L., the late Duchess of C. and the broken heart of the beautiful Miss S. In no time at all, the Summoner family would close ranks against him, and the rest of the ton would cast him out.

Was it really so wrong of him to hope that, once she had learned the whole sordid story, Amy would love him enough to follow him into exile? It was doubtful that she would come back to the man who had supposedly broken Belle’s heart. Her first concern had always been for her sister.